Breathing Underwater
by nb41
Summary: Clint and Natasha in the aftermath of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. (Spoilers for Captain America: The Winter Soldier.)
1. Chapter 1

_**Cap 2 Spoilers**_

* * *

At one point in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, there's a brief moment where three SHIELD techs are discussing someone who's 'in Afghanistan'. Although I'm not sure this is Clint, I decided to run with that.

* * *

One of the things that happens in an organization like SHIELD is, the more you get sent to a place, the more you get sent to it. This is why Clint finds himself in Kabul yet again on the day everything turns upside down.

Hill had warned him some years ago that learning Dari was a mistake if he didn't want to wind up in Afghanistan every other month. He'd assumed she'd been joking. She'd told him it was his funeral, and he'd rolled his eyes at her and accused her of being melodramatic.

He's been sitting in the restaurant for over an hour. He can only order so many drinks before it looks weird. He's already been asked if he's been stood up, and made jokes with the waiter about it. At this rate, he's running the risk of hitting the curfew.

Finally, his phone buzzes. He keeps his voice low, but can't help how irritated he must sound. "Rashid. I've been sitting here for almost two _hours_—"

"Calliope." It's the only thing Rashid says, and then the line goes dead.

It takes Clint a second to react. He sighs and summons the waiter, and after accepting sympathy for being dumped, pays and leaves. He ducks into an alleyway as soon as he can be sure no one is looking. Once he's found a convenient dumpster to crouch behind, he pops open the back of the phone, pulls out the SIM card, and crushes it under his boot. Next comes the phone, though he has to do that with his hands or risk making too much noise. It feels good to snap it in half; the touchscreen on it is crappy anyways. He digs his personal spare phone out, slides in a new SIM card, and heads for another restaurant. The old phone and SIM card get abandoned in separate trashcans at separate points along the way.

* * *

There are a handful of codewords for use in really bad situations on any operation. Unlike pass phrases, they're meant to be as succinct as possible, because they're often given when whole sentences are too risky, too time consuming, or both. They come in levels, representing the degree of failure: being double-crossed by an asset, failed extraction, blown cover, blown op-sec, and so on, up to complete and total meltdown.

Rashid has just given him the highest possible level, which means not only is their operation a bust, but things extending beyond it are too. This, of course, begs the question of whether or not Clint can trust Rashid, but Rashid isn't part of SHIELD's deeper network, and in some ways that makes him more trust-worthy than the rest of the op team when it comes to the 'total meltdown' scenario.

It takes a few minutes for the phone to activate and sync, after which there's a single email message waiting for him. It's from an address he doesn't recognize and probably won't get a response from if he replies; a one-time use account from a secure ISP dealing in data anonymization, most likely.

_Check CNN_.

He hasn't bothered with the news for over a day. That's normal on a deep cover op, but if he's being told to it means something major is up. He wanders under the watchful eye of UN troops until he finds another restaurant with a TV and cable, but doesn't settle in, because the sight of three helicarriers firing on one another with the Triskelion in the background is more than enough to make the point. A good third of the restaurant patrons are staring wide-eyed and silent; a few more nudge one another and have hushed conversations while their eyes flit to the UN troops.

He goes to the bus station to get his bow and cash from the op reserve he's stowed in a storage locker, and from there straight to the airport.

* * *

His closest personal bolthole is in Turkey. It takes a lot of bribes to get there without showing up on a passenger manifest, but he doesn't want a personal alias getting out there, and he doesn't dare use any he has from SHIELD. He doesn't sleep for the entire trip; there's too much to read in the enormous leak someone has unleashed on the entire Internet, and watching the reactions is important. He has to know where it's safe to go.

Interestingly, his name is missing from anything, which narrows the list of likely leakers down to a handful of people.

The dusty little Istanbul apartment shows no signs of being discovered or watched, and the landlords don't evidence any nervousness or suspicious behavior, nor do the neighbors, so he collapses onto the bed and doesn't wake up for half a day.

* * *

He keeps the news on nonstop, watching the blow back. Nat takes no shit during the hearings, though he has to wonder why she's putting herself out there like this. Rogers would be a better option, or Hill.

Maybe he's just too jaded, but finding out SHIELD is actually HYDRA in a SHIELD suit doesn't surprise him. It does make him a little sad, because who can he really trust now, though he had long ago accepted that nothing would last—not even this. Maybe especially _not_ this.

Nat. He can trust Nat. Who else? Fury appears to be dead; emphasis on appears, because it's hard to keep an old spy down and until Clint sets eyes on the body or Nat tells him it's true, he'll consider it awfully convenient. Rogers and Hill are alive but appear to have gone off to who knows where. (What kind of job do you apply for if you're a super soldier or former second-in-command of a counterintelligence apparatus? Head of Marketing? PE teacher?)

So he'll have to wait for Nat to find him after the hearings are done, because finding her is going to be next to impossible if she doesn't want to be found. He has to be careful or risk whatever's left of SHIELD-HYDRA snapping him up, and yet he can't use one of his personal hideouts she doesn't know about, of which there are quite a few (like the one he's in now).

He resolves to wait a day or two and think about it. Nat has a few more weeks on the DoD's docket before she'll be cut loose anyways, and he would rather not be on the move while things are still settling.

* * *

In the end, he decides on Montenegro, and seventy-two hours after he gets there so does she (so he figures there's got to be a great bit of video footage on C-SPAN of her telling them to all go fuck themselves as she bails on their circus).

"Took you long enough," he says when he hears the balcony door slide open.

"I went to Kabul first."

"Did you really think I'd wait that long?"

She closes up the door and settles on the arm of the sofa, which puts her half in and half out of the living room light. "I thought you might have been stuck out on the op."

"Mmmm. No, Rashid gave me a head's up before we started."

"Nice guy."

"Very nice. I left him a big tip as a thank you." He holds up his pint glass, and she shakes her head. "Hungry? There's leftover pizza in the fridge."

"I'm fine."

He sets his glass down. Here they are, two refugees in a crappy apartment in Podgorica, except for him there's this detached feeling, like it's not real; he'll blink and wake up and find it was just a TV show he watched and is having recurring daydreams about.

Except for the cold feeling in his gut which says that's not going to happen, much like her expression, which despite being its usual faintly pleasant mask speaks volumes to him about what she's seen.

"Feel like telling me about it?"

She runs a hand through her hair and says, "Arnim Zola, a HYDRA scientist, was recruited by SHIELD after the War. He made sure HYDRA survived, and infiltrated SHIELD, basically because he was right there from the start. Rogers and I found a...I guess you could call it an artificial intelligence. He'd recorded himself into a computer tape system and was still running things for HYDRA from that."

Clint just stares at her for a second, then manages to pull himself together. This is Nat; she wouldn't make this shit up. Anyways, he's witnessed a god being resurrected, been possessed by another one, and helped fend off an army of invading aliens; a scientist turning himself into HAL isn't that much of a stretch.

So he focuses on the real core problem from their perspective. "SHIELD's always been HYDRA?"

"To some extent."

"...Christ." Clint leans back in his chair. "That's why you blew it wide open." She nods, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. "They'll try to reform."

"Already are. It's basically one huge power grab out there right now. The government's picking apart what they have access to, and they blew up the scientist while trying to get us." A frown crosses her features. "Well, they blew up that site. I guess he might have backups of himself."

"Backups of himself."

Nat shrugs in that way which says, 'We've seen weirder,' and he wonders how this is his life, that he can't deny it's true.

He takes up his beer in an attempt to console himself. "Fury?" She doesn't answer, which is an answer all on its own. He's alive somewhere, and the fewer people who know what he's up to the better. "Hill?"

Natasha looks amused. "She took a job with Stark."

Clint almost chokes on his drink. "That's rich. Doing what?"

"Upper level management."

It's a cover, of course. Only time will tell what for. "Rogers?"

"Looking for Barnes."

The assassin from the leaks. According to Rogers, his best friend. Or perhaps that's _former_ best friend, given recent events.

"Now that seems like a _fantastic_ idea." She raises an eyebrow at him, and he knows what she's getting at and can't help his morbid laugh. "I would know, I'm the King of Fantastic Ideas."

"Rogers has help with him."

"That's good." He finally looks at her, _really_ looks at her. "Thanks for keeping my name out of your dispatches."

"It seemed like the least I could do, what with us burning the place down while you were out of town."

It would be funny if it wasn't so true. Clint turns his glass around by the rim and sighs. "I'm sorry, Nat. I know SHIELD was more than just a job for you."

She shakes her head. "Don't be. This is just how it goes."

"Well, I am, and you're not the boss of me, so I'll be as sorry on your behalf as I want to."

One corner of her mouth quirks in an almost-smile. She digs in a pocket and pulls out a jump drive. "If you're looking for something to do, I have a suggestion."

"Oh?" He reaches for the drive and plugs it in to his tablet. "Find something interesting while you were spilling HYDRA's sec-" Coulson's face fills the screen, in a file labeled for Level 8 access, and his status is marked as Active.

_Active_.

He _is_ surprised about this, but he shouldn't be, which is the only reason he doesn't smash the tablet. He'll save that reaction and let it fuel the awesome right hook he's going to serve Coulson when he finds him.

"That fucking son of a bitch." He drinks the last of his beer. "Clone? HYDRA bullshit?"

He sees her shake her head out of the corner of his eye. "Something special Fury had access to outside of SHIELD."

He narrows his eyes at her. He'd always suspected the Director had his fingers in plenty of pies, but ones with people-resurrecting filling is a bit much. She says, "It was called the Guest House."

"Well that doesn't sound horrible or anything." He drums his fingers on the table, then pushes his glass away. "You coming with me?"

She smiles, and it's even genuine. "Why not. Someone has to keep you two from killing one another."

He grunts and rubs at his face. "Good luck with that," he says, and goes to pack his meager belongings.


	2. Chapter 2

I hadn't intended to write more in this, and then I saw the movie again, and I got some pretty hardcore Natasha feels, so this happened.

* * *

Natasha goes to see one person before she heads out.

"Stark Industries," she says as Hill approaches. They're meeting at the coffee shop that sits in the shadow of the enormous tower; it's warm enough out that the sidewalk tables are uncovered. Hill gives Natasha a wry smile as she slips into the seat opposite her.

"He made me take a lie detector test."

Natasha doesn't laugh, but it's a near thing. "That's probably my fault."

"It definitely was."

She would apologize, except she decided not to apologize for doing her job a long time ago, so instead she pushes a slice of coffee cake over to Hill. Hill pulls off a corner and tries it.

"Not bad," she says, and has another piece. "So. How about you?"

"Not sure yet. I have to come up with some new covers."

"I might be able to get you something here."

Natasha arches an eyebrow at her, and Hill says, "Potts is the CEO, not Stark. It's her say-so."

"I don't know that she remembers me all that fondly either."

Hill shakes her head. "You were involved in keeping him alive when he was being an idiot about finding help for his condition. She figures you're at least even."

Interesting, and useful, but not what she's interested in right now. "Good to know."

"...but you have other plans."

Natasha can hear in Hill's voice and see in her expression that she already knows what Natasha is going to do. Natasha confirms it by looking away, and Hill grimaces.

"You know he might be HYDRA."

Natasha meets Hill's eyes for a second, then glances down at her coffee. "He's not."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

Hill settles back in her chair. "How can you be so sure?"

She thinks of when she first joined, and of Budapest, and of a hundred other times from then to now, and says, "I just can."

Hill watches her for a almost a full minute, cool gaze assessing. The reality is, Hill has known Barton longer, but Natasha has never been more certain in her life that she knows him better. Presently, Hill nods.

"Okay. But just so it's clear, if you bring him back around here, I'm considering him an unknown quantity."

"Fair enough." Natasha thinks of the files she kept for herself. "I've got some things I wanted to look into. I figured I could use his help."

"Are these the kinds of things I'm going to have to answer questions about?"

Natasha shakes her head. "Though I'll update you on how they turn out, if you want."

"I do."

Natasha nods. "Here." She pushes a jump drive at Hill. "This is everything HYDRA had on Jane Foster."

Hill frowns. "They had her under surveillance? Separate from SHIELD?"

"Ever since New Mexico."

Hill palms the drive and tucks it away. "Do you think we need to do anything?"

"She has the best protection available on the planet." She sees Hill take her meaning. "But it might not be a bad idea to entice her closer to Stark."

Hill looks thoughtful. "There's some projects we have that might work. We'll see what Potts thinks."

Thor and Tony Stark under the same roof ought to make for some grand theater. Natasha sips from her coffee. "So. A lie detector test. What all did he ask?"

Hill smiles.

* * *

He's not in Kabul.

The mission was aborted by someone from SHIELD high enough in the op command structure to be listened to, so there's almost no one lingering. She manages to track down one of the local contacts, who is barely willing to make eye contact less speak to her, but eventually she gets confirmation that Clint received the word to get out of town.

She knows he has safehouses he hasn't shared with her, not because he doesn't trust her but because he's never been able to bring himself to rely on the apparatus they worked for (with good reason, as it turns out). He's probably in one of them now, waiting for the dust to settle, and there's no telling when he'll move to one she's familiar with, or which one it will be. Sydney? Madrid? Copenhagen?

She decides to try Montenegro first, because she can get there with a minimum of effort while staying under the radar, and she finds him waiting for her, drinking beer and eating day-old pizza.

* * *

He takes the news about Coulson about as well as she could have expected, though at least he doesn't break anything. Naturally he wants to go after him, which means getting to the States, and that means getting some good covers. He suggests they go in through Canada, and they get to work exercising their European contacts. In a couple of days they're on their way to Montreal, and it's almost like old times; they fall into their habits and patterns, with the not insignificant change that now they're hiding from everyone, even their own.

They're on their drive to the border when Clint finally asks her, "How do you know I'm not HYDRA?"

Despite how well they know one another and what she told Hill, it's not outside the realm of possibility. He's a fair bit older than her, and was in SHIELD for some time before he brought her in. Anything could have happened in that time. He's never told her everything, after all.

But still she says, "I just do."

He looks askance at her—only for a moment, since he's driving—and raises his eyebrows. "You're not the kind of person to roll with gut instinct."

"I also didn't see anything incriminating in their files." Which is true, but it's not the reason, and his posture says he knows it.

"You wouldn't, if they really wanted it kept secret. Especially if it was someone like me."

Very true. And still. "You're not HYDRA, Clint."

He huffs a laugh. That's one of the best things about him; he knows how to read her moods, like when she isn't going to give a straight answer no matter how many times she's asked. She says, "What about you?"

"Me?"

"How do you know I'm not HYDRA."

He's a long time in replying. "I don't." That gives her pause, and when he glances at her there's a tired fatalism in his expression she's only seen once before (just after she'd freed him from Loki). "I figure, if you are, I'd rather be close by so I can put an arrow in your eye before you do anything. And if you're not, then the safest place to be is wherever you are. And let's face it—you were working with Rogers and Hill. If you're HYDRA and they didn't figure it out, I'm pretty fucked, and if all three of you are HYDRA, I'm _seriously_ fucked." He lets that sit for a second, then sighs. "I'd rather have someone to trust than go around suspecting everyone. I'm too old for that. If that's going to be anyone, it's you."

Everything from the last two weeks is a little too raw for her to formulate a proper response to that, so she just nods. They pass a few more miles before he says, "What about Coulson?"

She shakes her head. "Not sure."

"That file says he has a couple of Level Seven Ops people with him."

She knows what he means: even if Coulson isn't, any of his people might be, and they won't be push-overs. It's a delicate and deadly situation they're heading into. "We'll have to shadow them for a while. See if we can get an idea."

He seems to agree, but then says, "And if he's not HYDRA, how do we convince him _we're_ not?"

"Still working on that one," she admits, "but I was thinking if you give him a black eye for being alive that might work."

He laughs, and says, "Maybe."

They're sitting in line at the border when he says, "This is what they want." She gives him a puzzled look, and he explains, "HYDRA. They want us second guessing one another. Turning on one another. That way we're separated, alone, and vulnerable."

She gazes out over the traffic. They're almost to the booth. "Joke's on them."

He gives her a grim smile. "Damn straight." He gets out his passport, and she hands hers over as they pull up to the window.

Once they're on the other side of the border, she says, "Maybe we can have Thor check him out for us. Level Seven or not, they're wouldn't be a match for him."

"I thought he would've gone back to wherever after that craziness in London."

"Still here as of the last set of HYDRA surveillance photos on the astrophysicist."

Clint frowns. "HYDRA was monitoring Selvig?"

"Probably, but he's not who I meant." Natasha can't help her amused smile. "Selvig's sweet and all, but I don't think he's Thor's type."

Clint looks lost for a moment, then blinks and says, "Oh. Right." Natasha manages to hold back a laugh.

While they're refueling in Ohio he says, "Even if we do find him and he's not HYDRA and we convince him _we're_ not, _and_ we figure out who among his people are clean—what comes after that?"

"I guess we'll have to see what he's doing and take it from there."

"You said they have some sort of transport?"

She nods. "Or they did. I'm not sure if they still do. Their refueling options are going to be limited now, which should male it pretty easy to find."

Clint says, "Which is why he'd be smart to ditch it at the first opportunity."

The pump clicks off, and Clint finishes up. When he's back in the driver's seat she adds, "But you know Coulson."

"What, that he loves long shots?"

"He likes having something to work on."

"Same difference," Clint says, and she rolls her eyes at him.

Another few miles down the road he says, "I really hope he's not HYDRA."

She's afraid he will be, because it seems too much to hope that he's not. Still, what Clint said earlier remains with her as a reminder of why she came to find him in the first place, and it gives her a sort of resigned hope.

_They want us to turn on one another_.

She says, "Me too."


End file.
